


i propose (that you stay with me forever and ever)

by voltron_is_mine_now



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cute, Dating, F/F, F/M, Just tons of Fluff, Keith's Desert Shack, M/M, Multi, proposal, voltron ocs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 08:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19081381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voltron_is_mine_now/pseuds/voltron_is_mine_now
Summary: An idea starts forming in Keith’s mind, bursting with something exciting and terrifying in unison. This feels familiar, going home and eating dinner and putting children to bed—and Keith—Keith wants to—Keith wants this, so much that it hurts.⸻⸻⸻⸻Keith proposes to Lance in his desert shack, where it all began.





	i propose (that you stay with me forever and ever)

Keith first gets the idea one day, when Lance calls to say he can’t make it to their planned date that night.

“Sorry, babe,” he says apologetically, “but Roni and Acxa are double dating with Luis and Ximena and I have to babysit last minute. I couldn’t get out of it.”

“That’s fine,” Keith says, holding the cell phone to his ear. He paces the room while he does it—Pidge would say it’s to make up for the lack of visual feedback, which he remembers incessantly every time he makes a phone call. Science nerd. “You want me to come over?”

There’s a pause. “Oh, wait, yeah!” Lance says enthusiastically. “Maybe with you here the little buggers won’t be quite so hyper.”

Keith snorts out a laugh. “I doubt that,” he says, “but I’ll be there anyway. Seven?”

“You know it,” Lance says. “See you there. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Keith says, and hangs up.

⸻⸻⸻⸻

When Keith arrives on his bike at the McClain house, he’s immediately ambushed by three tiny blurs. 

“Tio Keith!” squeals Emmie. “You’re here too!”

Keith gives her a small smile. “Yeah, I’m gonna help Lance babysit,” he tells her, picking up Sofie, Luis and Ximena’s one-and-a-half-year-old daughter. He balances her on his hip and ruffles Emmie’s hair. Emmie scowls and smacks his hand away. She’s five, all freckled cheeks and wildly curly hair. Sofie takes after her already. It’s remarkable, actually; all the McClains bear that strange family resemblance.

Emmie’s twin, Omar, takes hold of his wrist and tugs. “C’mon, Tio Keith!” he says, dragging him inside. “Papá said that we could order pizza and watch a movie tonight!” He leans in closer and whispers, looking secretive. “And Tio Lance says he’s gonna make you wear a tutu because you can’t say no to us.”

It’s true: Keith can’t say no to any of the McClain kids, and there are a  _ lot _ of them. “Uh-oh,” he whispers back to Omar. “We’ll have to tickle him to stop him, young paladin!”

Omar lets go of Keith’s wrist, putting both hands on his hips in a superhero pose. “That’s right!” he exclaims, grinning. One of his front teeth is missing, which is ridiculously adorable. “The orange and indigo paladins will stop him!”

“Why am  _ I _ the indigo paladin?” Emmie whines.

“You’re not!” Omar exclaims, looking disgruntled. “ _ I  _ am!”

Emmie calms. “Oh, okay! Come on, indigo paladin! We have to stop the evil Tio Lance!”

They run inside, giggling. Sofie is currently amusing herself yanking at Keith’s hair, so, wincing, he makes his way inside, with her still balanced on his hip. 

Lance meets him at the doorway, grinning. He gestures at Emmie and Omar, who have each chosen a leg to cling to, giggling. “Did you put them up to this?” Lance asks, squinting jokingly at him.

“Maybe,” Keith says. He leans out of Sofie’s hold to plant a quick kiss on Lance’s lips. The effect is instantaneous: Emmie and Omar gag, and Sofie giggles and yanks harder at Keith’s hair.

Keith pulls back. “Luis said you could order pizza?” he asks.

“Ximena, actually,” Lance says, grinning. “Luis is kind of, like, the power parent of the couple, but Ximena made an exception. Pepperoni?”

“Obviously,” Keith says, smiling, as he gently pulls Sofie’s chubby toddler hands from his hair.

It’s a lot of coaxing to get Emmie and Omar to let go of Lance’s legs, but finally, they relent. Lance goes to order the pizza, while Keith gets the kids settled on the sofa. “Okay,” Keith tells them. “I’m going to tell you guys a special paladin secret. Lean in close.”

They do, looking excited in the anticipation of the silence. “What is it, Tio Keith?” Emmie says, eyes wide.

Keith takes a deep breath, staring at them.  _ “Lance has terrible taste in movies,” _ he whispers, purposely emphasizing each word.

Omar blinks. “But Tio Lance always says he has the best taste in movies!” he says, hushed in the false secrecy Keith has created. Lance’s voice is persistent on the phone, ordering pizza, so Keith doubts he’d hear either way, but Omar’s quiet makes something fond stir in the pit of Keith’s stomach, unsurprising in its intensity. He loves Lance’s family, and they love him in turn. Six years has left him coming over at least twice a week, usually with Lance.

He’s been dating Lance for six years. It still surprises him sometimes—it’s been six years since they’d come back to a Galra-occupied Earth and effectively banished the Galra from anywhere a lightyear in any direction. 

And six years since, a third of the way into their space road trip to Earth, he’d kissed Lance and actually gotten a boyfriend—an achievement he’d never thought would actually happen in his lifetime. Maybe in the astral plane.

“He’s lying,” Keith whispers. “He has the  _ worst _ taste in movies.”

Emmie giggles. “We should pick the movie before he can!” she says. 

Keith nods. “Paladins, spread out and complete your mission!” he orders, trying to sound commanding while suppressing a laugh. He fails.

Finally, Emmie and Omar pull a movie from the drawer underneath the McClains’ TV stand, waving it excitedly. “Look!” Omar whispers.

Keith gently sets Sofie down on the floor, where she whines and toddles on chubby legs toward her siblings. He peers closer at the DVD Emmie is holding. “Tangled?” he asks.

Omar nods enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

Keith feels the corners of his mouth curl up into a grin. “Perfect!” he says. 

Lance comes over. “Pizza should be here in ten minutes,” he says. He squints at the movie Omar is currently feeding into the DVD slot of the TV. “Is that Tangled?” he asks.

“Yep,” Keith says. 

Lance makes a face. “I hate Tangled.”

Keith nudges Emmie and Omar. “See what I mean?” he mock-whispers.

“What?” Lance exclaims. “The witch traumatized me as a child!”

“We’re braver than you, Tio Lance,” Omar giggles. 

Lance looks like he’s about to protest, index finger crooked, but then his expression softens. The corners of his lips curve upward into a soft smile. “Yeah,” he says, ruffling Omar and Emmie’s hair at the same time. They scowl in unison, and Keith laughs out loud, accidentally shaking Sofie. 

They get comfortable on the couch (with the typical “we have to be responsible, no food on the furniture” pep talk) and then the bell rings. Lance goes to get it and brings back the pizza, which smells greasy and delicious and far too good for junk food. Keith’s stomach grumbles.

Lance brings out the garlic knots (“They’re all mine,” he teases, then Emmie squeals in complaint, and he frantically says, “just kidding, just kidding, you can have one—”) and hands out pizza slices on paper plates. “Hmm,” he says under his breath. “Pepperoni for Keith, olive for Emmie, plain cheese for the rest of us.” 

They sit on the couch, and Omar insists on starting the movie. Keith attempts to sit next to Lance, but, ever oblivious to cute couple moments, all three kids wriggle between them, staring excitedly at the TV. Keith resigns himself to his fate and eats his pizza.

Lance is completely engrossed in the movie, staring, transfixed, at the screen. Keith smiles unconsciously, leaning his head on Lance’s shoulder. 

Eventually, Sofie drifts off, giving soft toddler snores. She snuggles into Keith’s side, looking moderately uncomfortable, although, as Lance has said, “You’re so bony, anyone would be uncomfortable leaning on you.”

Once the movie is over, it’s already eight thirty; Emmie and Omar make their eyes as big and pleading as possible, but Lance is relentless. “Your mamá and papá are gonna kill me if you two aren’t in bed soon,” Lance says. “I’ll tell you what, Keith will read you a bedtime story, and I’ll sing. How’s that?”

After Lance’s bargain, they readily agree. They change into their pajamas as Keith browses the books in their tiny kid shelf, which only has two of the eight cubbies dedicated to books. He frowns and pulls out one at random; it’s a find-the-object book featuring CyGirl and the Borgs, a fictional band that is—creepily named, to say the least. He pulls it out with a shrug.

They all—Keith, Emmie, and Omar—sit on Emmie’s bed, with the orange covers and dark violet stripes, flipping through the book. Omar excitedly points out every blatantly obvious picture on the list. Lance watches from Omar’s bed, grinning softly as Emmie leans on top of Keith’s head, standing behind him, to better see the book.

When they’re done with the book, Keith tucks Emmie and Omar into their beds as Lance grabs the guitar from their closet. He puts the strap around his neck and strums a few chords experimentally, then grins and starts singing.

It’s in Spanish, of course—melodic and beautiful, deep and slightly off-key. Keith enjoys it all the same, sitting at the end of Omar’s bed. He catches a few words; he’s spent enough time with Lance’s family that he understands Spanish to some extent. It’s a happy lullaby, something about the stars and the water and the burning of joy in hearts.

Lance finishes, with several slow, lethargic strums, and smiles at them. Keith slides off Omar’s bed and moves to stand beside him.

“‘Night, Tio Lance,” Emmie says, the word interrupted by a yawn halfway through. 

Omar snuggles down into his covers, mumbling something unintelligible. 

“Goodnight, you two,” Lance says softly. He takes Keith’s hand in his as they leave the room, turning off the light, and Keith’s stomach gives a little jerk. No matter how many times Lance does it, Keith still gets nervous in a good way, his stomach doing somersaults.

Sofie is still asleep on the couch, her toddler eyes shut and her mouth open, a bit of drool dripping from it. Keith nudges Lance and points to the drool. “She takes after you,” he says, smirking.

“Rude,” Lance says, bumping Keith’s shoulder with his own. 

“I sleep in the same bed as you,” Keith says. “I know you drool. Don’t even try to hide it.”

Lance squints at him. “Maybe I drool a  _ little _ ,” he says, “but that doesn’t mean you get to bully me over it.”

Keith shrugs, then ignores Lance’s overly dramatic gasp as he goes to pick Sofie up. She stirs slightly as he picks her up. “Shh,” Keith says quietly, rocking her to soothe her. “I’ve gotta get the princess to her bed.”

Sofie stills, snoring slightly. Keith carries her as gently as possible to her room, laying her down in her crib. “Goodnight, Sofie,” he whispers, brushing a lock of curly hair out of her face. She makes a small noise and turns onto her side, face relaxed and open.

Lance is watching from the doorway, a soft smile on his face. “What do you wanna do?” he asks.

Keith considers, his thoughts wandering. Lance is taller than him; he’d hit a growth spurt soon after they’d gotten back to Earth, and now stands at 6’1”, as opposed to Keith’s 5’9” (and a  _ half _ ). It’s—irritating. Keith looks up at him, though, as they walk back to the living room.

“We can watch another movie,” he suggests.

Lance’s face lights up. “Okay!” he says, then freezes as Keith shushes him.

After multiple movie options (and several vetoes from Keith over Lance’s worst suggestions) they finally put one in, staring at the old-timey film. “The Fugitive,” Keith says aloud. “Weird name.”

Lance shrugs. “It’s a good movie.”

As the movie goes on, Keith finds himself paying more and more attention to Lance and less and less to the movie. Lance’s face is open, completely devoted to staring at the screen. His brown eyes are bright and excited, his mouth grinning.

Keith leans his head on his shoulder, smiling. He feels himself drifting off, until Lance’s head falls on top of his, and then he’s in that soft dream-like state just between sleeping and waking, staring off into nothingness with a relaxed look on his face.

An idea starts forming in Keith’s mind, bursting with something exciting and terrifying in unison. This feels  _ familiar _ , going home and eating dinner and putting children to bed—and Keith—Keith wants to—

Keith wants  _ this, _ so much that it hurts.

⸻⸻⸻⸻

Luis and Ximena find them asleep on the couch, arms around each other and soft smiles on their faces.

⸻⸻⸻⸻

Keith pretends that it’s on a whim (it’s actually the opposite) when he asks Lance to go on a date a week later.

Lance’s eyes light up. “Sure!” he says. 

Keith’s stomach settles; step one is accomplished. “Okay,” he says. “Seven?”

Lance nudges him. “You know it.”

After a day of meetings—meetings  _ suck _ , no matter if you’re a paladin or the president—Keith meets Lance back at their apartment, a picnic basket hanging off one arm. “Ready?” he asks.

Lance throws an arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Let’s go!” he says.

They walk out of the Garrison and to the parking garage, where Keith revs up his hoverbike. Lance grins. Keith sets the picnic basket in the back and clambers on, pulling his helmet over his head and pulling his goggles over his eyes. Lance does the same, putting his arms around Keith’s waist as he eases his way out of the garage. 

Keith makes his way out to the desert and then revs the engine, speeding up and leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Lance whoops in his ear, arms tight around his midriff. “Where are we going?” Lance shouts.

“You’ll see!” Keith yells, going even faster.

⸻⸻⸻⸻

When they pull up at the old desert shack, Keith parks his hoverbike and slides off. His legs feel wobbly.

“Wow,” Lance says. “Why are we here?” He looks, frankly, disappointed. Keith feels at his pocket, where he can feel the outline of a small box. His stomach twists.

Keith doesn’t speak; he takes the picnic basket from the back of the hoverbike and walks inside. The door is unlocked. When he pushes it open, he dislodges a huge cloud of dust. Keith waves at it, coughing. When it’s dispelled enough, he walks inside, gesturing for Lance to follow him.

Lance sits down on the couch, which dislodges another dust cloud. Keith sets the picnic basket on the coffee table, unpacking it. He pulls out a tupperware container and takes the lid off; a strong smell fills the cabin. 

“Empanadas!” Lance says, looking excited. 

Keith grins at the thrilled look on his face. “Your mamá and Hunk helped me make them.”

“Huh,” Lance says, grinning. He nudges Keith. “Is this important?” He’s teasing, although Keith’s heartrate kicks up anyway. “What, did I forget our anniversary or something?”

“No,” Keith says. He bites his lip. “This  _ is _ important, though,” he adds. He hands Lance an empanada, and Lance bites into it with a grin.

After they’ve finished eating, Lance leans against Keith, smiling softly. “That was great, babe,” he says. “I’m impressed!”

Keith feels yet another jerk in his stomach at the thought of doing—what he’s doing, but he pushes past that. He bites his lip and is suddenly glad that he’d rehearsed the words over and over in his mind, until he could recite them in his sleep. “Lance,” he says, taking Lance’s hand and twining their fingers together.

“Yeah?” Lance hums.

Keith leans against him, feeling the familiarity of the gesture soothe some of the anxiety in his stomach. “Lance—this place was the start of a lot of change. I’ve… never been good with change.”

Lance is silent for once, listening. There’s an intent expression on his face as he squeezes Keith’s hand.

“When I was six, my dad died,” Keith says. The words feels strange in his mouth. “I… never really got over that. I was a lot of trouble as a kid, and then—then I met Shiro. And I stole his car.” 

Lance snorts.

“And, even after I stole his car, he was still kind to me—still wanted to help me,” Keith says. “I’d never had anyone do that before. And, for a while, I was okay. But then he disappeared, and I got kicked out. I lived in here for a  _ year _ , Lance. I had nowhere else to go.”

Lance is clutching at his hand now, the reassuring squeezing giving way to relentless pressure. It feels soothing, still, so Keith squeezes back.

“Then you guys came. Like I said, I’ve never been good with change, but that was probably the biggest change of our lives. And all that shit happened with Shiro disappearing and a million other things, but somehow—somehow it was okay, because you guys were there,” Keith says. He doesn’t bother to explain himself; Lance knows him well enough to understand the meaning of his words.

Lance shuts his eyes and leans against Keith, pressing a kiss to his left temple. “Why are you saying this?” Lance whispers.

“You’ll see,” Keith says. “After all that change—some actually-good changes happened. I turned Galra, which sucked, but—well. We finally kissed.”

Lance smiles softly. “Yeah.”

“It all started here,” Keith says slowly. “I guess—I wanted something else important to start here too.” As he speaks, he moves, pulling a box from his pocket. Lance sucks in a breath when he opens it. “Lance,” Keith says, feeling the telltale jerk in his stomach. “Will you marry me?”

There’s a beat of silence. Keith holds his breath, staring at Lance, whose hands have flown to his mouth. Tears shine in his eyes. Then Lance is rocketing forward, throwing an arm around Keith’s neck and tangling the other in his hair, and he kisses him, tears making tracks down his cheeks.

After either a minute or an hour—Keith’s brain still fizzles out whenever Lance kisses him, so he can’t be sure—Lance draws back, arms still around Keith. “So,” Keith breathes, “is that a yes?”

“Idiot,” Lance groans, burying his face in Keith’s shoulder. “Of course it’s a yes!” He drags an arm across his eyes, sniffling happily, as Keith slides the ring onto his finger. It’s simple — just a plain silver band with a thin red stripe running through it. 

Keith puts an arm around Lance’s waist as he picks up the picnic basket. “Ready to go home?” he asks.

“ _ Yes, _ ” Lance says emphatically. “This couch is hygienically terrifying.”

“Oh, wow, okay,” Keith says, as they walk out into the cool desert air. “I love you,” he adds.

Lance laughs, and Keith can feel the movement through the arm that’s still wrapped around him. “I love you too, cariño.”

**Author's Note:**

> First part of a series—I'll do proposals for all my ships! It'll take me a while, though. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
